


Amorphous

by solona



Series: Explorations of the Fade [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Mages, Magic, No gender specified, No physical description, Short, Spirits, The Fade, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solona/pseuds/solona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spirit's perspective of mortal visitors in the Fade. (No name/description/gender of any characters. Feel free to think of the characters as whomever you like. As I said, no names, or actual character really, is given.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amorphous

And there it sat on haunch and heel: the little thing. Little, nameless thing, come to dream again. Eyes painted wide, the color in them, never could it be described, never could it be forgotten. Its little mouth, how it curved and shaped. Sides tugged down or back when hostile, pulled up and teeth bared in the moments of joy. A beast of concepts, seemingly so.

Yet still, to a fade spirit nothing is simply felt. Every emotion; a color, a thought; translated into a taste, a sensation; a burst of energy set aglow among formless things. And yet here in the still breath of such a flesh creature, is the desire to shape, to contort in the most violent and splendid of ways. Each time, each breath of magic.

Even among the smallest things, so young and alien in their new center of being, still held the same captive beauty, the same wonder of exploration. Such curious things, the children of man. Little things, fragile things, who insisted on holding their meaty bone forms even with the expanse of the void taking formless, limitless shape around them. So transfixed on their constructs of order, of things made solid and flesh-carved. Little thing, clinging to shape, giving shape, projecting shape, rather then surrendering form, evaporating the constrains of body of self.

To here those who visit, whose spirit sing in kinship to those already sated of mortal life, to those as alien and foreign in their own world as a spirit might be; it is said to be like water. And here one such paints a picture on water, holding shape that will dissipate in a breath, inevitably so. Such is the nature of man against that of the fade-beings. Such is the nature of magic.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting with me for months now. It's not done, really. But I don't think it ever will be, so I've just decided to post it.
> 
> Work subject to editing/additions.


End file.
